Editors on Editing: What Writers Need to Know About What Editors Do (62 page)

In
Homecoming
, John Bradshaw included very stringent warnings about stopping the experiential work if certain feelings came up, and about people who should not do the work at all. It is now common, as well, to warn those with addictions to drugs or alcohol that they should address those before undertaking other self-help work. This is a matter of basic integrity, not something done to satisfy our lawyers.

The writer’s art is particularly apparent in the handling of two perennial elements of popular psychology, the case history and the typology. In this, of course, every writer stands on Freud’s shoulders; who wouldn’t be proud to come up with “Little Hans,” “the Wolf-Man,” and “the Oedipus complex.” Case histories can be hackneyed and formulaic, implying that the client “gets well” in two therapy sessions after imbibing several miraculous interpretations (or, these days, swallowing a couple of Prozac). But there is no reason case histories can’t rather give us a sense of the many manifestations of a given problem, of the complexity of change, and of the value of the struggle for insight. How fully characters should be developed, how case histories are carried through the book (if at all), their placement and pacing relative to interpretation, and whether they all have to be resolved are key topics for discussion.

Robin Casarjian’s
Forgiveness: A Bold Choice for a Peaceful Heart
was her first book, and we struggled together over the issue of case histories. “Too abstract,” I said of the first draft; “Not authentic, not me,” she said of the model cases I suggested. The logjam broke when Robin sent out a call to her friends and workshop clients for personal stories of forgiveness. The letters that came back were too long to fit smoothly into the chapters, but they were also some of the most moving, dramatic testimony I had ever read. We created special “interchapters” to accommodate them, and when it came time for the sales department to see samples of the book, I chose these sections to send them.

And in the end, I think stories are what it’s all about. People learn best when their emotions are engaged, and the self-help book is also a dramatic
form and an entertainment, like a detective novel or a romance. We each see our own life as a narrative, and the large promise of self-help is that we can change the way the story comes out. A “self-help junkie” may not be someone who can’t get it together, but rather someone who enjoys this particular form of a very old story: of downfall and redemption, of order out of chaos, of triumph against the odds.

Those of us who have been deeply involved in recovery books now have our noses in the air for the next major “trend.” I am personally fascinated by the emerging field of biopsychiatry and how our new knowledge of genetics, inborn temperament, neurology, and brain chemistry will interact with psychodynamic and behavioral approaches. I have just finished work on
A Brilliant Madness
, a new book by actress Patty Duke and medical journalist Gloria Hochman, that combines the personal example of Patty Duke’s manic-depression with information about the latest research on this complex disease. I see this as part of a larger movement to destigmatize mental illness and to broaden our definition of “normal” behavior.

I believe that the boundaries of self-help will also continue to expand into the areas opened by New Age, recovery, and transpersonal psychology, so that increasing attention will be paid to spiritual concerns. The new interest in religion, service, and life purpose takes us well beyond the psychological limits of the “culture of narcissism.”

I am also curious to see how the new emphasis on multiculturalism will affect self-help writing. We are perhaps ready to confront the fact that our models of psychological health are, at least in part, culturally determined. Is separation from the family the only route to full maturity? Is self-sacrifice noble—or “codependent”? Is aggression essential to male identity? Self-help books are notoriously hard to sell in translation because of differences in national attitudes. Nathaniel Branden, in his new work,
The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem
, is the first popular writer I know who is addressing the issue of cultural norms.

Finally, driven by demographics and the presence of AIDS, we are turning again to the human verities of aging and death, and new publishing categories are being born to fill the need. I presume a largely middle-aged audience for books on growing old; those of us who are suddenly “next in line” after the death of a parent feel a special urgency about getting it right. And our new consciousness is making dying itself a final stage of growth—one that we must wrest back from hospitals and machines for ourselves and our families.

Back in my Eng. lit. days, I remember hooting with laughter when I first heard the titles of Jeremy Taylor’s classics:
Holy Living
and
Holy Dying
. It was an age of irony, and I suspect I was embarrassed by the directness of Taylor’s concerns. Now I am very happy to be working with writers who are his spiritual descendants. Every self-help book I edit changes my own life in some way, and I trust it does the same for its readers.

Linda Marrow

L
INDA
M
ARROW
is a senior editor at Pocket Books, where she has worked since 1982, acquiring and editing romance novels as well as mysteries, thrillers, true-crime, and mainstream women’s fiction. The romance authors she has worked with include Jude Deveraux, Julie Garwood, and Judith McNaught
.

Covering contemporary and historical romances (“A historical romance is usually set somewhere between the Norman Invasion in 1066 and about 1900”), Ms. Marrow’s essay charts a clear course for both editor and writer to realize the best that each genre has to offer
.

Both the writer and editor of romance fiction should be aware that “the reader of romance fiction can and will expect that both the hero and heroine will be alive and well and thoroughly in love with each other at the close of the story; that the hero and heroine will not be separated for lengthy sections of the book; and that the story will end at the point at which there is the most hope for their relationship
.”

Ms. Marrow shows the writer of historical romances how to research effectively to re-create a bygone age with authenticity and populate it with believable people. But she warns not to flaunt the research so that it slows down the narrative
.

She offers valuable advice about handling dialogue (strike a balance between historical accuracy and contemporary readability) and creating characters (let the characters grow and develop during the course of the novel). And, whether writing historical or contemporary romances, Ms
.
Marrow advises against “assigning only positive character traits … to their heroes and heroines. Readers will immediately feel distanced from a character with only virtues and no flaws, problems, or mild neuroses
.”

In the course of her cogent and clearheaded essay, Ms. Marrow makes many valuable suggestions about matters vital to the successful editing and writing of romance fiction, among them: how graphic sex scenes should be; handling sensuality, sexuality, and sexual tension; creating a fairy-tale, romantic atmosphere; and the importance of following publishers’ guidelines for writing different kinds of romance novels
.

Ms. Marrow sums up why so many women read romance novels when she quotes Kate Duffy, editor of Kismet Books: “If romance were as common as rudeness, I’d be unemployed
.”

Novels published in the romance genre constitute a large and profitable area of the paperback world and are also becoming increasingly important in hardcover publishing. Like other genres (mystery, horror, science fiction, etc.), romance is an umbrella that covers several kinds of novels, all of which tell the story of two people falling in love.

Most romance novels published now fall into one of two fairly broad groups: historical romances or contemporary romances. A contemporary romance of course has a modern setting. A historical romance is usually set somewhere between the Norman Invasion in 1066 and about 1900.

Every genre has rules and/or reader expectations that must be satisfied; the romance category is no different. Just as a reader of crime fiction expects a dead body to appear early in the pages of a murder mystery, the reader of romance fiction can and will expect that both the hero and heroine will be alive and well and thoroughly in love with each other at the close of the story; that the hero and heroine will not be separated for lengthy sections of the book; and that the story will end at the point at which there is the most hope for their relationship. Some publishing companies, especially publishers of contemporary romance, have very specific rules or guidelines for the contents of the romances they publish. These rules can usually be found in the form of tipsheets, about which more later.

…

When beginning a historical romance, the writer confronts a host of challenges, some of which are quite different from those facing her contemporary romance colleagues. The most obvious of these is research. The
historical romance writer must be able to re-create, authentically and convincingly, a fully realized world far different from the one her readers live in—a world full of the sights, sounds, smells, and social customs of the place and time of the story.

At no time should the writer lose sight of the fact that she needs to tell a story that is so compelling that readers cannot bear to put down her novel for even a moment. Editors and writers must remember that there is no place in the novel for a lecture (even a short one) flaunting the writer’s newfound knowledge. The research should provide details that will enhance the story rather than slow it down, detract or digress from it. It is awkward and amateurish for the writer to choke the story with large clumps of information learned while researching the setting, if these clumps do nothing to propel the story forward or to develop its characters or to keep the reader reading. Every sentence should add something necessary to characterization or plot. Take as a rule what Chekhov once said about playwriting: if a gun is hanging on the wall in the first act, it must fire in the last.

Researching the historical period a writer has chosen for her romance can be very daunting. Where does one start? I usually suggest to my writers that they determine to what extent actual historical events figure in the plot. Will any of the characters be directly involved? If so, the writer should learn the facts about that moment in history from every angle. Otherwise she’ll have a hard time persuading readers that they have entered the world of her story and characters.

I’ve learned that merely knowing about (and being able to write about) a particular event isn’t enough. A writer needs to be able to create a world full of characters that spring to life for the reader. What are these characters going to talk about? What do they see upon waking up from a nap or when walking down the stairs of their houses?

Even during the most important historical occurrences—war or economic uncertainty or national prosperity—real people don’t speak only of the events or politics of the day. Fictional characters who do so seem stiff and stilted. Romance writers and editors should remember that real people talk to each other about the trivial as well as the significant: clothes, food, entertainment, gossip, illness. Interesting, well-drawn characters do the same. So after the writer knows the basic facts of the time she’s chosen, it’s time for her to find out what made up the fabric of the lives she’ll be writing about.

As an editor, I’m often called upon to suggest ways that romance writers can learn more about the historical periods they are writing about. I recommend they look at books describing the clothing worn during the time. Read magazines published during the period that your characters might have read. Diaries or journals from the period provide invaluable material
for writers, frequently giving not only the details of daily life but also information on what people were thinking about. Were people worried about where their next meal would come from? Did they have so much time and money that they could devote themselves to leisure? One can get clues from popular recipes of the period too: were they concerned with conserving fresh ingredients like eggs, milk, and beef? From the fashions of the time one can learn whether an adolescent girl might have been insecure because she thought her figure was developing too slowly—or too quickly. Read biographies of people like the main characters. It’s easy to find material about kings and queens or great leaders of political and religious movements; it’s harder to find information about the wife of a small-town mayor, or the least important young lady who waited upon the least important young duchess at a royal court.

Learn about the etiquette of the time: What was considered good manners and good taste and what was considered vulgar? Why did these rules exist? Would the hero and heroine of this novel heed them? Just like today, certain behavior was probably considered appropriate for one socioeconomic group and not for another. Think very carefully about who your characters are. A world of difference would probably exist between what was considered correct for the daughter of a farmer and what was proper for the daughter of a duke.

This kind of difference can be put to good use in plotting or in sparking conflict between the hero and heroine. An example of this might be a story in which the heroine is the daughter of a dairy farmer and the hero is a wealthy young man who left the village as an impoverished boy eager to seek his fortune. Now he has returned to claim the farmer’s daughter as his own true love. What could possibly go wrong? Well, what if our plain-spoken, down-to-earth heroine finds our hero (eager to please and impress the girl of his dreams) to be condescending and affected? What if she loudly proclaims in front of the entire assembled village that he has put on airs since he left and now acts as though he were better than his old friends? You’ll have a furious, embarrassed hero, a bold, no-nonsense heroine—a thoroughly and understandably estranged couple in an amusing conflict that came from your research into social custom and etiquette.